#EnglishWriters
I wonder, can the night go by; Can this shot arrow of travel fly Shaft—golden with light, sheer int… Of a dawned to—morrow, Without ever sleep delivering us
The stars that open and shut Fall on my shallow breast Like stars on a pool. The soft wind, blowing cool Laps little crest after crest
Yours is the sullen sorrow, The disgrace is also mine; Your love was intense and thorough… Mine was the love of a growing flo… For the sunshine.
RIGID sleeps the house in darkne… Like a thing unwarrantable cross t… And climb the stairs to find the g… Standing angel-stern and tall. I want my own room’s shelter. But…
A big bud of moon hangs out of the… Star—spiders spinning their thread Hang high suspended, withouten res… Watching us overhead. Come then under the trees, where t…
And who has seen the moon, who has… Her rise from out the chamber of t… Flushed and grand and naked, as fr… Of finished bridegroom, seen her r… Confession of delight upon the wav…
Patience, little Heart. One day a heavy, June—hot woman Will enter and shut the door to st… And when your stifling heart would… Cool, lonely night, her roused bre…
Reject me not if I should say to… I do forget the sounding of your v… I do forget your eyes that searchi… The mists perceive our marriage, a… Yet, when the apple—blossom opens…
Forever nameless Forever unknwon Forever unconceived Forever unrepresented yet forever felt in the soul.
The shorn moon trembling indistinc… Frail as a scar upon the pale blue… Draws towards the downward slope:… Worn her down to the quick, so she… Along her foot—searched way withou…
This is the last of all, this is t… I must hold my hands, and turn my… I must watch my dead days fusing t… Shape after shape, and scene after… Fusing to one dead mass in the sin…
A tiny moon as white and small as… Leans all alone above my window, o… Liquid as lime-tree blossom, soft… She shines, the one white love of…
There are four men mowing down by… I can hear the swish of the scythe… Sharp breaths taken: yea, and I Am sorry for what’s in store. The first man out of the four that…
Thought, I love thought. But not the juggling and twisting… I despise that self—important game… Thought is the welling up of unkno… Thought is the testing of statemen…
Why does the thin grey strand Floating up from the forgotten Cigarette between my fingers, Why does it trouble me? Ah, you will understand;